


The Gospel of Sin and Love

by Megalohdon



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Ao No Exorcist AU, Blow Jobs, Clothed Sex, Death Threats, Dirty Talk, Exorcist!Viktor, Foreign Language, I tagged FL but I mean.., Its THEIR native languages so., Lost autonomy, M/M, Mild Self Esteem Issues, OOPS FORGOT ONE, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Riding, Rimming, Shower Sex, Wall Sex, demon!Yuuri, dominant yuuri, mentions of:
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-10
Updated: 2017-07-10
Packaged: 2018-11-30 05:35:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,115
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11457063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Megalohdon/pseuds/Megalohdon
Summary: “Not sticking around to clean up our mess, then?”“No, never. Not now, not tomorrow. We’re going home.”Yuuri pauses, stops in his movements, and turns back around to face Viktor before pressing up against him and aligning his lips to the shell of the other’s heated ear, “I want you. Don’t make me wait.” Not that Viktor would, he never had before. It was always something about that sultry baritone that Yuuri used that had Viktor moving without hesitation, and the way he presses his own lips against the shorter’s temple was more telling than any verbalization could have been.





	The Gospel of Sin and Love

**Author's Note:**

> BEFORE YOU READ:  
> This is part of my Ao No Exorcist AU which I _will_ be making a series of. I just wanted to get this out of my system, mainly the smut? I'm so sorry, it's horrible. It's literally been five years since I wrote anything like this.
> 
> That being said, the only important thing you need to know is, if you're familiar with ANE, you'll know that they're mostly teenagers. That probably concerns you! Both Viktor AND Yuuri are of age (and are, actually, their canon ages) in this fic. I don't want anyone to think this is between two minors. I will have more notes at the end, so please be sure to read them too!

                He finds envy to be a monster, green and ravenous in his chest.

                He sees himself longing, hoping, waiting.

                Yuuri discovers that, when the sun sets and the world settles in, his mind races and pulse roars beneath his skin. He’s alive, sure, but at what cost? He wonders to himself what he must have done in a past life to get him here, and he whispers quiet, burning prayers into the darkness like a lifeline he knows he’ll never need. Can’t need, that is, being an unholy abomination that tore into existence like the bat out of hell he was destined to become.

                It’s funny, in retrospect, how he wound up like this.

                A gunshot brings him back to the present, eyes hyper focusing on a blur of silver and black that darts in front of him. It’s a quick movement, almost untraceable, but he’s trained himself to be keenly aware of where _that_ form moves at any given time. It’s second nature to worry, instinct to want to reach out and pull him away from danger. But Viktor could handle himself, he was born do to this.

                “Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

                Never.

                “I’m fine, don’t worry about me. _You’re_ the one who could die, not me.”

                He could, yes, but not by a Naberius. Yuuri, the son of Satan, wasn’t one to worry about mortal wounds from lesser demons, and he isn’t privy to just how many close calls Viktor has had. He doesn’t want to ask, too scared to know the reality of their lives that they refused to share. They had a fine line of complacency between them, a gentle neutral ground where nature didn’t pull them apart. Yuuri never pushed for Viktor’s past, and Viktor never felt like Yuuri was guilty for what his father caused.

                After all, no one else had the capacity to destroy Satan. A rightful end for the king of the damned.

                Viktor doesn’t comment back, just narrows his eyes and steps to Yuuri’s side. His Kurikara is unsheathed and by his side, at the ready for an attack as the demon lurks in the shadows. Combat was a dance, swift movements of changing orders and daring leads. Yuuri was an expert in footwork, but Viktor had the experience to carry them further, so he took the brunt of the battle on his own. Yuuri remembered how Viktor had told him it was fine, ghosting gentle words along the line of his jaw under the blue of the moonlight.

                _I would die for you, my love._

                He would, and Yuuri knew that, an awful truth he drove himself to face the last time Viktor leapt out in front of a demon. He was reckless, heart on his sleeve and head in the clouds, and the only thought that passed his mind at any given time was something along the lines of ‘keep Yuuri safe’. But Yuuri didn’t _need_ protection, he could handle his own. He was strong, resilient, besting bullies and hypocrisy in childhood and demons that came at him in his adulthood. He was used to the beatings, molded by it to be a better warrior; a stronger person. He could protect himself, no problem.

                What he _couldn’t_ do was protect Viktor all the time, and even if he was able to get to him after an attack, he’s a Knight not a Doctor. He wasn’t _built_ to play the savior. He was born to destroy and be destroyed, and he thinks for a moment that, maybe, he should let it happen anyway. He could let Viktor do his job, tell him to press that gun into his temple and just _finish him_ already, but he couldn’t. Really, he was weak, feeble when it came to holding his own and he knew better than that. He couldn’t ask for anything.

                Viktor was something else, though, headstrong and steady where Yuuri was emotional and meek. It was hard not to admire the man to his left, all long lines of determination and destruction and Yuuri’s core ached with such a filthy want to rip him apart and build him back stronger than ever. Only _Yuuri_ could do that to Viktor, make him a better fighter than he had been, crafting him into a superweapon only God knew.

                Yuuri would take down Satan, but he didn’t stand a chance without Viktor.

                A pained hiss slips from the Naberius, arms extended and mouth open wide and ready. It was tired, taking major damage from Viktor’s guns and chants, but refusing to fall, too stubborn on its path to death. A part of Yuuri empathizes with it, recalls back to when Yakov had approached him at the cemetery when Minako died and how he fought to be _here_.

                He should be dead.

                A voice pulls him back from his daydreaming – likely Viktor – but he’s not consciously aware of the words. They’re a known presence, at least telling him someone is with him, but after a few moments of hesitation he’s sidestepping and circling the demon with a snarl. Hellhound against unholy messenger, gazes fixated on each other as Yuuri forces its attention on him. Seeing the demon’s attention pulled away, Viktor takes this as a window of opportunity and slides up behind it with his gun at the ready.

                But that was his first mistake.

                His second was freezing as the gun misfired and locked, and the wave of panic that washed through him was clear as the Naberius turns to move away from Yuuri.

                That’s why he’s _there_ , though, to stop that.

                It manages to get into Viktor’s space and reach out a hand before the Kurikara’s blade finds itself wedged through the vertebrae in its back. The black-clad Exorcist flinches, armed hand falling to his side as the beast quickly fades into nothingness. A close, preventable call. Something that shouldn’t have happened, he was _better_ than that. He didn’t make careless mistakes.

                But Yuuri had been there, always at the ready to keep him safe, and he sees that they’re more alike than different in those moments of desperation for each other. The demon may be gone, but it could have easily could have been Viktor. That could have been the man who made his knees weak, stole the breath from his lungs in the mornings when he fought about the alarm, wrapped his arms around Yuuri’s waist like a binding he didn’t _want_ to run from. Yuuri wasn’t _good_ enough to save Viktor when it came down to it.

                So, instead, he curled his lips up into a gentle smile and sheathed the blade in his hand, stepped forward with a quiet determination, and took Viktor’s face in his own hands. He had ingrained into himself just how soft Viktor’s skin was, the way it felt underneath the tips of his fingers and under the rough callouses he had subjected his hands to. It was like mentally mapping out every curve and dip of the taller man’s face, memorizing everything; every dimple, every freckle, every eyelash. Everything was so uniquely Viktor, so amazingly _powerful,_ and it took his breath away.

                A man, trained and skilled in the art of killing demons, who was so completely, hopelessly, and utterly devoted to _him._

                An abomination. An unholy mistake.

                “That was a close call.”

                Viktor flashes a sharp smile, all teeth and genuine adoration, and he wraps his arms around Yuuri and pulls him flush against his chest. It’s a moment of reprieve, the quiet in the endless storm of their lives, and they relished it; soaked in the feeling of holding each other, the way fingers curled into cotton shirts and heavy coats. It was so perfectly human, grounding, and it was their time together, those little moments in the timeline of eternity that _they_ got to live through. No one else was so lucky.

                “Yeah, it was. Couldn’t do this without you. Wouldn’t trust anyone else to have my back.”

                And he didn’t, Yuuri knew that. Viktor had no _need_ to trust anyone else. He was an Arc Knight, classically trained and surreptitiously poised into a position of respect. Viktor earned his title, gave his blood, sweat, and tears to be where he was today. There were few people who could stand with him toe to toe, pose a threat to the Legendary man himself, and it was a bittersweet honor he felt to know that, out of everyone Viktor knew, he trusted _Yuuri_ the most.

                Of course it was mutual, risking his life for love, but worth it.

                Always irrevocably worth it.

                “You’ve got a bad habit of scaring me whenever you can.”

                “It keeps you sharp, zolotse, and I won’t take blame for helping you grow as a person. Only credit.”

                It wasn’t a fact Yuuri would deny. No matter what the world said about him, regardless of the hate and accusations, he was a _good_ person. Better than most, more wise than some. He’d been pulled through a hellish gauntlet of verbal abuse and degrading comments, forced to accept who and what he was before he was ready, and at twenty three years old was told to make a simple decision: would he let the True Cross Order kill him, or would he do it himself?

                Perhaps molding himself into a weapon wasn’t ideal, but at least it kept him alive.

                It kept him with Viktor.

                So he pulled himself back, fingers trailing along the fitted fabric of Viktor’s coat, and he locks eyes with electric blue. Viktor doesn’t say anything, doesn’t move. He lets Yuuri guide them at his own pace, moves his hands as his younger lover pulls away gradually, and gives him the space he requests through actions. It was something to love, a staple part of Viktor’s personality that was impossible to hate. He couldn’t bring himself to loathe any part of the man who spared his life, especially not when it only managed to bring them together.

                He took a gloved hand between his own, two pointed ears laying back as he relaxed, and he let his tail idly sway behind him as he brought them both backwards. No words, only eye contact, and that innate trust that sparked between them hummed beneath their skit. It functioned as a reminder to them both, why they were here, why they had each other. How they found love in the wrong places but made their homes between the sins their bodies crafted beneath silken sheets.

                The flames of desire burned low inside him, rolled up against his sides and put his nerves on edge. He found it easy to just lose himself in the sensation of Viktor, hands roaming each vertebrae that pressed into the flesh of his back, lips mapping paths down his chest to a place he’d let no other before. He found those moments to be what stayed with him the most, resonated in his heart longer than anything else, because that was when he was his most human.

                Viktor never once treated him like the monster he was.

                Especially when they made love.

                “Not sticking around to clean up our mess, then?”

                “No, never. Not now, not tomorrow. We’re going home.”

                Yuuri pauses, stops in his movements, and turns back around to face Viktor before pressing up against him and aligning his lips to the shell of the other’s heated ear, “I want you. Don’t make me wait.” Not that Viktor would, he never had before. It was always something about that sultry baritone that Yuuri used that had Viktor moving without hesitation, and the way he presses his own lips against the shorter’s temple was more telling than any verbalization could have been.

                “I’d never dream of it.”

                He wouldn’t. Not now, nor ever. It wasn’t a passing thought in Viktor’s mind, something to sit on and process as Yuuri was left wanting. They always hungered, always needed, a trembling insistent pleading beneath their skin. A part of him thought it was instinctual to want Viktor like this, simply biology working wonders at inconvenient times, but it was always more than that.

                It was the way Viktor’s laugh hiccupped when he had been going too long, the way his blush never failed to reach down to his chest, and Yuuri was always so enamored by the way his hands trembled in his own. No amount of composure could keep them cool together, and it was refreshing to see Viktor’s resolve be chipped away slowly by his actions. His goal was to, ultimately, seduce Viktor until his taste for anyone else was ruined, but falling in love in the process was a bonus he’d take.

                At least the walk back was filled with insistent tugging of the Russian’s hand on Yuuri’s part.

                Viktor was the keeper of the key to their hotel room, the chosen handler doing his job to remove as much autonomy from Yuuri as he possibly could. And he didn’t hold that against the other man, was more understanding than most in his situation would have been, but it did bother him. The Order still saw him as a threat, an untamed weapon ready to seek destruction, and it was Viktor’s job to make sure that never happened.

                Perhaps that’s why he felt so blessed to wake up every day.

                He hadn’t noticed the door had been opened until he was tugged inside, door shutting with as much finesse as they could muster, and with a beat of his heart Viktor had him pressed up against the door. It felt _good_ to be wanted like this, the long, taut lines of Viktor’s body meeting up evenly with his own as he rocked his hips forward in a taunt. It worked, for what it was worth, causing Viktor’s eyes to darken beneath his silver lashes and his hands found both sides of Yuuri’s face and held him steady.

                They didn’t move, barely breathing, as they stood there staring at each other in the dark. Viktor hadn’t even flipped the lights on, too desperate already, and Yuuri was finding the darkness a much better place to indulge himself than anywhere else. He was crafted by the darkest parts of hell, shaped into a weapon that he made himself, and even as vengeful as he _was_ he still had human needs. Wants.

                He only ever wanted Viktor.

                So he took his hands, curling one into the hair on the back of Viktor’s head and letting the other hold itself against that place in his chest that beat rhythmically to the music of their bodies. He smirked, flashing white, canines slipping over each other to match his hooded gaze and whispering tone, “You said you’d never make me wait.”

                “I don’t think of this as waiting, darling, more like admiring you like you deserve to be.”

                 “Yes, but,” he purred, grip on Viktor tight as he pulled him down and ghosted his lips over the other man’s own pair, “If you’re going to admire me at all, I’d rather be riding you while you did it.”

                Their lips press together, a spark of electricity between them bringing them into action. There’s teeth, quite a bit, but Viktor’s never complained about Yuuri’s teeth cutting him up, and Yuuri wasn’t about to find anything wrong with kissing Viktor Nikiforov. He curls his fingers more, tighter, rocking his hips up into Viktor’s pelvis and he can finally, _finally_ feel the length of the other man’s arousal against him and he’d adamantly deny how badly he keened.

                Viktor is the first to pull back, lips parted in a pant as he lets their foreheads rest together. He’s got both of his hands on Yuuri’s hips, both index fingers now darting underneath the hem to run along the sharp lines of his hipbones; a gentle, intimate gesture between them, a silent telling of want, an unspoken promise of _yes._ “I don’t stand a chance against you, moya lyubov.”

                “You never will.”

                He tilts his head up enough to draw Viktor in for one long, lingering kiss, before parting with a sigh.

                “Don’t you _dare_ think about taking off your uniform this time.”

                Hearing Viktor chuckle is unsettling, but not unusual, and he pulls back enough to give a pout towards the taller man as a hand moves to caress his cheek. “That’s fine, I can do that. But we’re taking a shower first, no matter what.”

                _Of course._

The responsible thing to do, he knew, but it wasn’t any more appealing to his current appetite. Viktor’s eyes follow the way his tail sways, agitation ever present in his body language as he pushes the other man off of him and stumbles towards the bathroom. Sure, he’ll take a shower. He’ll wash up and get out of the clothes, stave off any sort of release for at least thirty minutes, and then _Viktor_ will have to clean himself off too.

                That is, unless Yuuri could start the show in the shower instead, then they’d both get what they want. He throws a look back over his shoulder, lips quirked up in a smile to tease as he slips off his blazer and undoes his shirt and tie. He’s hyper-aware of Viktor’s eyes on him, boring into his spine as he reveled each flushed inch of flesh. It’s nice having this power, having a legend eating out of the palm of _his_ hand, crawling on his hands and knees because Yuuri had said so. Not once in his life did he have power over anything, but Viktor was always the exception.

                “Yuuri…”

                It was a low warning, almost dangerous, and Yuuri hooked his thumbs into the waist band of his jeans and boxer briefs, tail held high, before sliding them down his legs. If you asked him, he’d proudly compliment his own thighs and calves. He wasn’t much one for upper body strength, not like Viktor was, but he made up for what he lacked with speed and accuracy unmatched by any True Cross agent. At the least he felt untouchable. Invincible.               

                He kicks his the fallen pile of clothes to the side, slipping into the bathroom to chance one last look over his shoulder before stepping into the shower. He knew it had _worked,_ it was obvious with the way the wayward Exorcist had balled his fists and bit his lip. He was willing himself against temptation, but it was a dangerous game resisting a demon. Viktor was strong willed, and it was admirable, but he had a weakness, and any version of Yuuri Katsuki, nude or not, that needed _him_ so badly his knees shook just at the thought of Viktor taking him was that kryptonite.

                It’s an uncomfortable acclimation to the pressure of the water, a shocking chill at first against his back before it coaxed itself into warmer temperatures. Really, even if he weren’t up to something more nefarious, a long shower was much needed anyways. A long trip away from the Academy for a mission, and seemingly endless days working to get to the bottom of the mystery. They were close, painfully so, and it was nice to take a step back for a few minutes and just let himself exist.

                The door to the bathroom clicks shut, and he can’t fight away the smirk that twists its way across his lips when Viktor opens the door to the shower and steps inside. Of course it had worked, always did, and Yuuri’s quick to show his appreciation by turning around so he could hook his arms around Viktor’s neck as he sank them both into a long, languid kiss.

                Viktor’s hands rest at his hips, fingertips nearly burning into his flesh like a brand, and Yuuri _loves_ it. Loves the way he feels beneath skilled digits and a masterful tongue, envied the way Viktor could work him open with ease and never seemed to have a moment of hesitation. He was sure of himself, determined, and the boiling arousal in his own gut threatened to spill over just thinking about it. It drove him mad, made him desperate, and he wasn’t ashamed to admit that to himself. He deserved this. Deserved gentle caresses when they finished, had fought for the right to kiss Viktor so softly like this underneath the beat of the shower.

                This was heaven, the only place he’d never go.

                “You’re unfair, you know.”

                He almost misses the statement if it hadn’t been pressed into his lips, and he gives a small wink and moves a hand down Viktor’s slicked chest with a slow determination. “I’m not unfair, just impatient. Why not make the most out of the shower?” They could get so _far_ in here, wrapped up naked in each other’s arms, locked away from the rest of the world. It wouldn’t make sense not to take advantage of it.

                So he lets his fingernails dig into pale flesh, soft lines of irritation forming underneath the pressure as he moved his hand all the way down Viktor’s abdomen. He loved the way the other’s muscles flexed underneath his touch, the way his stomach dipped in that expectant way it always had, and his wandering gaze is greeted with the sight of Viktor’s half hard cock already coming to attention just below his wrist. “Seems like you don’t disagree with me.”

                “If there was one thing on this Earth that I loved more than you, it’s taking you in the shower.”

                _Absolutely shameless,_ he sputters to himself, face flushed from such an unexpected comment catching him off guard in a moment of intimacy. Leave it to Viktor to try and one up the seduction. Yuuri, instead, presses his lips to Viktor’s left pectoral, teeth grazing against the skin beside his pink areola _just_ slightly, and his wandering hand finally makes contact with its intended target. He lets his fingers do the work first, a ghosting touch against the underside of Viktor’s shaft, and he nearly purrs when the chest underneath his mouth heaves gently.

                Perhaps he _was_ unfair.

                Yuuri pulled back, moving his free hand to the place on Viktor’s chest where his mouth had just been, pushing him gently backwards so he was sitting on the in shower bench. There wasn’t any fuss, his partner took care to gently lower himself into a seated position before scooting up towards the edge of the bench. Viktor knew what Yuuri wanted, watched as his pink tongue darted out to wet his mouth at the sight of him alone. He’d feel empowered if his arousal wasn’t clouding his mind.

                Ebony hair plastered itself to his forehead, clung to soft flesh like a lifeline as a hand moved up to sweep it back and away. It was Viktor’s favorite look, out of his eyes and _just_ messy enough to be sinful. Perhaps he had a confidence issue, and he wouldn’t argue with anyone that agreed, but when the world was narrowed down to just them, alone in this shower while the world slept in peace, he couldn’t help but pat himself on the back.

                “I don’t even get a kiss for my patience?”

                “I’ll kiss you when we get out, okay? Promise. I have a system in place.”

                Viktor’s snort is unseemly, and he brings a hand to his mouth and nose to cover them up with widened eyes staring up at his partner to try to play it off. Yuuri could see the rise of his cheeks and the flush that sat atop the apples. There was that sparkling joy in Viktor’s irises that he got when he wanted to laugh, something he had found himself looking for whenever he told a joke or made a bad pun. There were few things in this world more beautiful than Viktor, but Yuuri was a man with his biases, and he’d always argue it was Viktor’s _laugh_ that truly held the most beauty. “What? I do.”

                “No, no. Of course. Blowjob first, _then_ kissing. That’s how this works.”

                He gave a hum of accordance, lowering himself in front of the seated man while his hands worked to push his legs apart. “We have to shake things up, keep it _interesting_ ,” he purred, lashes fluttering with a perceived innocence he could never reach, and his folded calves drew him forward until he had his head resting on Viktor’s thigh. A cooled hand ran its way through his hair, tangles in raven tresses and tugged him back a bit. The eye contact is forced, but not uncomfortable or unwanted, and Yuuri’s smile is gentle before he take’s Viktor in hand and gives him an even, firm stroke.

                If you had asked him, years ago, if he ever thought of being intimate with another person, he’d have given you a firm _‘No’_. He hadn’t, really; never found the compulsion to be close like that to anyone before. Perhaps it was the poor luck that followed him, hung over his head like a black cloud on a sunny day, or maybe a part of him simply didn’t _want_ that. But then there was Viktor, beautiful, ethereal, impossible Viktor. The man who spared his life, fought for his autonomy and right to choose his own path, and Yuuri found it hard to look away.

                The body surrounding him shifted, canting his hips forward to give Yuuri a better angle to work with, and Viktor was rewarded to a kiss to his pelvis before the man seated beneath his legs gave a final jerk to his length. Two dirt hued orbs flickered over the sight in front of him, darkened after a heavy rain, full of life and a sweet, natural richness. To say Viktor had, perhaps, the nicest cock he’d seen was a bit presumptuous, if only because it was the _only_ one he had seen in his twenty four years. Then again, even if it wasn’t, he’s sure his opinion would stay the same.

                It had a slight curve, just the right angle to press into Yuuri where he wanted it to, teasing against the bundle of nerves inside him with an easy finesse. The head was flushed, shining with precum and waiting for Yuuri’s lips, the shaft itself long, longer than he thought he could handle, but it worked. Viktor wasn’t overly thick, just right, and it was heaven on Earth. He told himself they were made for each other, two uneven pieces of an awkward puzzle that only fit together. And they did, really, underneath the sheets of their beds or on top of a comforter in a hotel they’d never see again. Maybe he was waxing poetic, being cliché about _sex_ of all things, but he didn’t care. Never would.

                So he pulled himself forward, moved his hand to the base of Viktor’s dick and gripped it gently while he pressed peppering kisses along the length. _Take it slow, take it slow, show him what you can do._ It kept him focused, driven, and he moved to look up into deep ocean pools that shined like the two AM tide as his tongue pressed to the underside of Viktor’s cock. The other inhaled a breath, moved a hand back to Yuuri’s hair and tangled itself in silky tufts to ground himself. Yuuri kisses the tip with a smile on his lips, curls his tongue around the head and under the frenulum just to watch Viktor writhe.

                His freehand moved from Viktor’s right thigh to underneath his shaft, fingers gently teasing around his perineum and the underside of his balls. The hitch in breath is good motivation, and Yuuri laved messy kisses up and down the sides of Viktor’s cock as his other hand moved in lazy strokes. They had all the time in the world, all the time to enjoy each other and memorize the patterns of muscular contractions. Why rush?

                When Viktor shifts again Yuuri pulled back, the hand that was fondling the older man now moving to his pelvis so he could stroke him gently there with his thumb. There was a high blush on Viktor’s face, that deep scarlet he loved stretching across the bridge of his nose, drawing Yuuri further in. He was never impatient, always let Yuuri go at his own pace and trusted himself to the other’s care, but he was different here. The grip on his hair tightened, a quiet insistence from Viktor he’d rather not ignore. If the man wants more, he’d get more. There wasn’t a point in torturing his partner.

                Yuuri curled his lips back over his teeth, flashed Viktor a look of fire and want, and let his tongue stick out _just so_ as he took the swollen cock into his mouth. It was always so welcomed there, having Viktor inside him in places he wouldn’t dare let anyone else. These moments were _reserved_ for him, cherished by Yuuri for all these years and shared with the man he fell for. It was special, emotional. Viktor tasted like the rain, fresh and untouched by filtration and chemicals.  He treasured it, memorized every detail of Viktor’s cock in his mouth as he took him in deeper. There was always that burning want to close his eyes and savor everything, let it all ruminate in the intimacy between them, but Viktor’s gaze was heavy and alluring, keeping Yuuri’s own trained on him with trained ease.

                _Never take your eyes off me._

                He bottomed out after relaxing is throat to take Viktor in more, drawing a breath in deep through his nose before letting it slip out as he pulled back. He could feel the way Viktor’s muscles twitched, saw the way his hips hesitated to move because they _wanted_ Yuuri back; never wanted those soft lips to part away from the base of his cock.

                Yuuri hummed around the length, tongue swirling around it softly inside his mouth as he went back down again. It was a slow pace, unhurried and attentive as Yuuri worked Viktor with his mouth and hand. He’d popped off a few times to go for air, letting his hand keep up the same speed he had previously set. He heard Viktor mutter quiet praises every so often, like _“So good, Yuuri”_ and _“Yes, like that”_. Viktor never asked for more, never faster, never demanded more from him than Yuuri was willing to give. He felt Viktor twitch before he was being pulled off one final time and tugged upwards.

                “I won’t last if you keep that up, solnyshko. Let me return the favor, da? Rest against the wall.”

                And he did, without hesitation, elbows bent at ninety degrees against the wet tile, forehead resting against his right bicep. Viktor was moving behind him, moving the spray of the shower just enough not to reach Yuuri, before he was back. He let his hands roam over Yuuri’s bare form, fingers dancing over every curve and dip they found, lips tracing a path from the back of his neck right down the curve of his spine. He arched his back, pert ass sticking out and pressing against Viktor’s erection, and he feels his own pulsate with want.

                Nothing Viktor did was ever hurried, always careful, calculated movements that had Yuuri on edge the whole time. He never moved the way Yuuri expected, never touched him how he wanted him to, but it was never _bad_ , just their own brand of perfection. Viktor dug his fingertips in, ran his hands down and over Yuuri’s ass and to his thighs. He massaged there for a moment, lips kissing just above the base of his tail, before he lowered himself down to his knees.

                “Viktor,” he panted, head hanging limply now between his arms, and two firm hands massaged each of his cheeks with that curious fascination Viktor had. He hefted his tail up, threw it back over Viktor’s shoulder so it was out of the way, and he let his fingers dig into the tile before he backed his hips up. “ _Please._ ”

                There was no hesitation as Viktor finally kept his ass spread open, hummed to himself in that greedy way he always did when Yuuri wasn’t looking, pressed the flat of his tongue to Yuuri’s pucker and pressed in _just_ so.

                If Yuuri keened, well, you couldn’t blame him.

                A pale hand moved from his ass around his hip, reaching in between his legs to take his own leaking cock into hand and stroke him slowly. Yuuri had the stamina to rival almost anyone, but letting him get off the hook this early was nearly a sin in and of itself, and Viktor was a holy, virtuous man outside of his affections. Yuuri broke every rule he had, but he couldn’t bother to care. Never would, either.

                He trembled under Viktor’s touch, felt the way his tongue pressed against the walls inside him impatiently and with hunger. He was the five star meal offered after a week without food, delicious, well earned, and always well prepared. Viktor had never been let down before, and even through sloppy kisses and welcomed penetration he couldn’t be turned away from _this;_ Yuuri, so headstrong and dominant, writhing underneath his touch, keening into the bend of his elbow as he forced himself to keep his voice down.

                But Viktor didn’t want that.

                With his free hand he used the spray from the shower to wet it, pressed it inside Yuuri along with the muscle already invading him, pushed in deep, fast, right up against the sweetest spot he could find.

                “Ah, Viktor, please, _fuck_ , more…”

                And Yuuri knew he’d get it, knew Viktor wanted it, but it wasn’t going to be here. Wasn’t going to be then, and that left him aching. Not even the fingers and tongue combination could fully prep him, get him open enough to invite Viktor in with practiced ease, and getting Yuuri there wasn’t going to happen in the shower. Lube would wash away, all the time spent prepping wasted in the effort to clean up and dry off.

                But they _had_ to. It was necessary. Even if getting in the shower was just to rinse off and relax from the day, they still had to put this on hold. He felt it nearly to his soul when Viktor fit a second finger in alongside the other and his tongue, the careful way he worked and stretched Yuuri more loving than anything else they did. It was about mutual comfort and pleasure, not just his own. And it pressed against Yuuri’s heart, curled around it in that ugly way that made him jealous at times, and he wanted to feel ashamed but couldn’t. Wouldn’t. Not when they were like this.

                When Viktor pulls back he whines, hips trying to follow to compensate for the loss, but he’s instead rewarded with a kiss and bite to the round of his left cheek as Viktor makes to stand. Yuuri feels almost boneless, so close to his peak but not quite, and he looks back over his shoulder as Viktor turns the knobs on the shower off and moves to open the door.

                Yuuri can only blink.

                “I’d do that all day if I _could,_ darling, but I need more and I know you want it. We can’t do it in here.”

                He hates how right Viktor is.

                “Come on, let’s get out and dry off.”

                He followed without comment, taking a towel off the rack and taking care to make sure he was completely dry. His tail dripped a bit, a sad sight to see, but Viktor took it in his own towel and dried it off for him, and Yuuri couldn’t find the will inside himself not to feel endeared by that. His heart overflowed with outward affection towards his Russian lover, was enamored by the way Viktor took care of him. It was the way he accepted Yuuri as a whole, paid mind to the very parts of him that made him a demon, that kept Yuuri wanting. An Exorcist and a demon, unspoken of and impure, but here Viktor was going against _everything_ he worked for, simply because it was Yuuri.

                It was hard not to fall in love with a man like that.

                Viktor dropped his towel, hands on Yuuri’s hips without a moment’s hesitation, and he had his lips immediately teasing the shell of Yuuri’s left ear as he finished up. There was a quiet moment between them, only the dripping of the showerhead interrupting the peaceful silence, and it was almost impossible not to melt into Viktor’s hold and stay like that forever. It was intimate, calm, and it was theirs.

                But Viktor’s erection rocked up into the cleft of his ass, a reminder of what they had been doing in the first place and what Yuuri had wanted in the first place. He spun around, arms linking around a sturdy neck that held a silver topped head high, grazed his teeth and fangs against Viktor’s collarbones, and he purred. “Get dressed.”

                “I… You don’t want to fini-“

                The question was interrupted with a small bite to the curve of his shoulder, Yuuri’s melted copper gaze low and burning into his chest. He held a breath, ran a hand around the hip it rested on to the shorter’s ass, and waited. He waited for Yuuri to make a move, mutter anything against his flesh and tell him _why_ they were stopping, but he saw the way the younger man’s tail twitched and then it hit him.

                “My uniform, right.”

                Of course it was, Yuuri had insisted before they started, and he pulls back enough to leave his lover with a lingering kiss against his forehead as he slips back into the bedroom to put his clothes back on per Yuuri’s request. With the other out of the room, he surveyed his surroundings for a moment before grabbing their bottle of lube from the bathroom counter so he could head into the bedroom.

                Viktor had his pants undone, cock hard and standing proud through the hole of his own underwear, and he moved to button his shirt back up before a glare from the entering demon had him stopping. It wouldn’t make sense to keep his coat on, as much as Yuuri would want him to, seeing as it was large and bulky, but he _would_ redo the tie around his neck. At the least, he could do that much.

                The bottle in Yuuri’s hand was tossed towards him, caught reflexively before he could register what it was. Yuuri returned back to his pose from the shower, tail high and flush set deep into his features. It was unfair how attractive he was, impossible in the way he could hold Viktor so steady with a heated gaze. It was their connection, the ever binding silent form of communication that said more than anything they could say would.

                He steps forward, lower lip caught in the corner by his own pearly whites, gently trembling fingers uncapping the bottle to pour a dollop of lubricant onto three fingers of his right hand before he’s reaching between Yuuri’s cheeks and pressing them back in. He goes slow, careful to listen to the way Yuuri’s breathing tells him how he’s doing. He didn’t like to talk or communicate, had told Viktor once after a session of lovemaking he felt it killed the mood. Yuuri’s body, however, was more vocal than he could bring himself to be; arched into Viktor’s touch, trembled and shook as a plea for more, and it was impossible not to give in to temptation when he was so clearly wanted.

                Yuuri burned under Viktor’s touch, legs spread wide to give the other room. It was quiet between them, only his panting and the thrusting of Viktor’s fingers inside of him filling the room alongside the silence, but it wasn’t _uncomfortable._ It was a mutual understanding between them, a way for their bodies to communicate without fuss. It was that irreplaceable connection they had, something so instinctual that it drove them together in the first place. A feral need to be with Viktor, be claimed by death that took the form of his lover, be bent over and fucked by someone who love _him._

                All of him.

                “I’m – I’m ready, Viktor,” he whispered, voice almost inaudible against his clenched fist as three fingers left him feeling opened and empty. That was the worst part of sex, the waiting, an ache deep in his gut that taunted him with mindless, desperate urges. And maybe he was desperate, needy for something to bring them together, and he found that it was easier to take comfort in his situation when Viktor had his uniform on. The uniform of an order so determined to see him die.

                But never Viktor. He wore it like a badge of honor, but kept it on for Yuuri to violate. He let his lover claw at it, rip it, tear it to shreds when they were at their most vulnerable. It helped him cope, relax, let go. Viktor moved away again, soft footsteps padding over to the side of the bed to dig through the bedside table for a lone foil packet.

                “Yuuri, turn around for me,” he called over his shoulder, tearing the packet open and rolling the condom onto himself from across the room. The demon moved, hand around his aching cock to give himself some mild relief when his back met the wall. He wanted to sink down to his knees, take Viktor in his mouth again and finish off like that, but he could stand for this; let Viktor have his wicked way for now because Yuuri couldn’t ever bring himself to rob Viktor of these finer things in life. They were a team, Viktor’s pleasure wasn’t second to his own.

                When the taller man settled back in front of him he found a leg being hooked around his waist and an arm thrown over his shoulder. Yuuri tugged, begged, pressed his lips to Viktor’s jaw and rolled his hips forward desperately. He hungered for that feeling of being full, needed for Viktor to make him feel whole again, safe, loved. He found his other leg being lifted to Viktor’s waist as well, both limbs hooking at the ankle before letting his lips move again.

                “I swear you’re going to be the death of me,” Viktor commented, more to himself than Yuuri, but the intention was clear alone. He couldn’t fight the smirk on his lips, never asked for his nails to let go of Viktor’s flesh while he gave another roll of his hips.

                “The sweetest death you’ll meet, then.”

                “Could not ask for a better way to die, hands down,” he laughed, taking his covered cock in hand to spread one last bit of lube over it before lining up with Yuuri’s hole. There was that brief moment of hesitation, one where Viktor let his gaze move up from where they were to be joined to instead Yuuri’s own foggy eyes. It was hesitant, questioning, always looking out for his lover over himself, and his partner’s response was to move enough to let the head press past the ring of muscle and Viktor relaxed again.

                They always took this part slow, letting Viktor sink in to the hilt at a pace that Yuuri could accommodate. He _built_ for Viktor, body taking him in with practiced ease, but he still needed to adjust. He needed to accustom himself again to that feeling of being full; filled by Viktor, stretched by his boyfriend’s cock inside of him. They held each other when the older man bottomed out, fingers curling into fabric and flesh as they too a moment to adjust.

                _Full. More. Harder. Faster._

It was always Viktor who moved first, knowing Yuuri’s body better than even he did now, pulling back out nearly all the way before he thrust back inside. A lazy, steady, burning pace that had them both panting within five minutes, Yuuri’s legs doing their hardest to drive Viktor in deeper with each thrust. When two strong hands move from his sides to his hips he tightened his grip on the back of Viktor’s shirt, the other hand curling around the black tie between them to steady himself.

                “M – More, Viktor. Harder, yabai.”

                A quick snap set into motion a new pace, Viktor had Yuuri bouncing on him with each thrust, panting against his shoulder. Their bodies were taut with a pressure building inside of them, Viktor’s knees already beginning to buckle from the stress of Yuuri’s weight and the speed of his thrusts. But Yuuri’s quiet moans were _good_ , they were coaxed out every time Viktor pressed against the other’s prostate. It was easily the most communication he got, desperate, natural cries of pleasure that drove him to thrust faster.

                Yuuri met each thrust Viktor gave him, nearly slamming them both together every time. It was new, sensational, made his toes curl in the way they had their first time together. Viktor could always bring new life to the bedroom, coax Yuuri into a sexual deviant in their home because it was something _fresh._ He clung himself tighter to Viktor, pulled him in by his tie and pressed their lips together in a desperate kiss, and he felt the other’s hand’s slip on his hips with the distraction.

                He sucked at Viktor’s tongue, let his teeth gently graze across his lips and breath mingle between parted mouths and quiet moans. He’d kiss Viktor forever if he could, lose himself in the sensation of softer lips on his own, unsure hands tracing Cyrillic letters into the flesh of his hips. He swore they said _‘I love you’_ , but Viktor was a man of many secrets, and only a knowing wink was given back to Yuuri in response to his question.

                As Viktor slowed and stuttered his grip loosened in turn, pushing himself back enough to look his lover in the face and tilt his chin up with the hand that had been curled around the tie. Viktor’s gentle aquamarines were clouded, mouth open and panting as he fumbled with his thrusts. Yuuri could see the ever present signs of exhaustion settling themselves deep inside Viktor’s bones, and he worried. “Do you need to stop? Want to go to the bed, let me take over.”

                And he should have expected the brief bout of stubborn hesitation from Viktor at the request, but he felt the way the other’s knees started to shake, saw his arms taut with the strain of holding him up and Yuuri knew more _then_ than he would have if Viktor had responded. He pulled himself off the other, shuddered that the loss of having his lover’s cock inside him, and forced Viktor’s hand into putting him down. He was _tired._ It wasn’t fair to let him do all the work, not when Yuuri could let them finish.

                So he takes hold of Viktor’s tie again, presses a quick kiss against pursed lips, and brings the other man to the edge of the bed. Viktor lets his knees hit the edge, turns so his back faces their horizontal destination and crumbles into soft linens. Yuuri lets him adjust himself, scooting up to the top of the bed where he’d be more comfortable before he crawls over Viktor’s lap.

                Yuuri only hesitates for a moment, Viktor throbbing in his fist, to look up to his lover before continuing. He’d never rush if Viktor wasn’t ready, wouldn’t force them into something that either one of them wasn’t comfortable with. That wasn’t sex. That wasn’t making love, and it surely wasn’t what they were doing. Viktor gives a curt nod, reaches a hand out to Yuuri who, in turn, entwines his freehand with it, and allows himself to lower onto the cock again. It feels better this way, he thinks, fingers tightening around Viktor’s own on his lap as he lets himself readjust. The angle is different, the fullness just _slightly_ off from before, but oh, it feels otherworldly.

                He raises their joined hands to his lips, presses kisses to each of Viktor’s white knuckles when he bottoms out. They don’t move, don’t speak, just revel in the feeling of each other again, before Yuuri gently grinds his hips back and forth for friction. Viktor has a hand on his cock, slow and gentle strokes keeping Yuuri engaged as well as he starts to fuck himself again. Both of them twitch when he picks up the pace finally. His tail snakes around his waist, curls tight around his hips and holds on to stay out of the way. He can’t think, took well fucked and thoughts heavy with arousal to think of anything _but_ the way Viktor’s cock drags against his prostate every time he drops back down.

                “Yeshcho,” Viktor moans, head lolling to the side, mouth open and needy. Yuuri doesn’t speak Russian, doesn’t know enough to ever manage to survive if he were to visit, but he knows that one. _More_. So he does, letting Viktor’s hand go in favor of planting both of his own on Viktor’s chest, head craning down over them as his pace becomes merciless. Viktor is canting his hips, meeting Yuuri every thrust, and his hands have wandered back to his hips to brand the indentions of his grip into the supple flesh. It was erratic, frantic, but so perfectly sensual that it had them both moaning out praises and encouragements.

                Yuuri felt his gut twisting, vision blurring as he pushed himself to the edge. He was trembling, overworked and overstimulated, but it felt _good_ , and he needed it. He let his head fall back, pace staying steady for a few more thrusts as he whimpered _“Iku”_ into his arm. Viktor had a hand around his cock before he could throw himself over the precipice, an unholy whine breaking past Yuuri’s lips.

                “Viktor, _please_ … iku.”

                “Da. Ya khochu chtoby ty konchi na moyo litso.”

                His rocking stopped, brows knitted together in confusion as Viktor spoke. _That_ hadn’t come up before, not even close, but he was debauched and fucked out, all semblance of the English language out of mind, so Yuuri _understood_ where Viktor was coming from. Instead his lover pulled Yuuri off him, cock thick and pulsing with its own need for release against his abdomen, and guided him up his chest. It was odd to see Viktor working with body language alone, but his gaze was unfocused and his hands shaking as they encircled Yuuri’s wrists.

                It was the brief moment of eye contact that they held that had Yuuri calming down, gaze flicking down to Viktor’s lips when they parted and his pink tongue laved out in invitation.

                “ _Oh_ ,” he breathed, a new flush coloring his cheekbones now. He still wasn’t sure what Viktor had said verbatim, but the action alone was clear, and his eyes weren’t on Yuuri’s face anymore, but his swollen length that sat heavy against Viktor’s chest. He got the picture now. It wasn’t something they had done before, and that settled a set of nerves inside his gut, but he sat up tall, right hand stroking at his length with a desperation of getting off, and he felt Viktor reach behind him to do the same to his own erection.

                “Hameru,” he gasped, release spilling out on Viktor’s face and coating his tongue. It was _obscene,_ the thick white catching into lose silver hairs and slipping down his cheek. It spurred that ugly monster in Yuuri again, a sense of pride knowing that he had done that to Viktor Nikiforov. _He_ staked his claim. It wasn’t long after that he felt Viktor twitching underneath him, breath choking in his throat as he arched off the bed and let the high follow on its own.

                They were both a mess, Yuuri covered in sweat again and Viktor now, proudly, wearing Yuuri’s cum on his face like it were a gold medal on its own. He made to roll off him, go into the bathroom to get a rag to wipe Viktor’s face off, but instead he was stopped with two hands that cupped his face and soft lips that tasted like his release. He’d try not to think about _that_ when he looked back on this rendezvous later. Viktor took two tissues from the box on his own bedside table, handed one to Yuuri and made to wipe his face off.

                Cleanup was quiet, a time for them both to ride down their respective highs and settle back into the comforting embrace of each other underneath the covers. Viktor pressed his nose into the crown of Yuuri’s head, inhaled deeply while his hands wandered up and down Yuuri’s back. It was intimate, an unspoken moment between them that only came with the rush of feelings sexual release brought on. Neither of them made to move despite their need for another shower. Viktor had taken his condom off and thrown it away just before, slipping out of his clothes to settle in beside Yuuri so they could settle down in peace. Flesh on flesh, hearts beating in their chests against the cages of their ribs. It was the loud thrumming of their pulses that steadied their breathing, kept their minds focused on the feeling of being with each other rather than anything else. They didn’t _need_ anything else.

                “Yuuri,” Viktor hummed, hand stopping just above the middle of his back. He craned his neck enough to glance at the other man, his own eyes closed as he rested his head against his pillow. He looked serene, at peace, and it was something to envy about him, the way he could find peace after a roaring storm. Yuuri only tucked his head under Viktor’s chin, let his arms and legs entangle themselves in equally nude limbs of the other. He’d find his serenity too.

                “Yes, Viktor?”

                “I love you, moya zolotse.”

                His heart skipped a beat, rattling against his chest and Viktor’s own, and he curled tighter onto the other’s larger form hoping to become smaller in their shared space. He felt smaller, targeted by affection, but he swelled with pride and adoration. Maybe it was blasphemous, the love the shared of an Exorcist and the son of Satan, but it _was_ real. It was theirs, it was special. It was an understanding that, no matter what happened when they went out of those doors the next morning, clothes pressed and coffee ingested for the day, that they’d be fine.

                They had each other, that was all they needed.

                “I love you too, Vitya.”

**Author's Note:**

> TRANSLATIONS:  
> Moya zolotse - Gold, my gold  
> Moya lyubov - My love  
> Yeshcho - More  
> Da. Ya Khochu chtoby ty knchi na moyo litso. - Yes. I want you to cum on my face.
> 
> Yabai - It feels amazing/good  
> Iku - Come/Coming/I'm coming  
> Hameru - Fuck
> 
> Note: Yabai CAN mean dangerous contextually! But not here. 
> 
> FYI:
> 
> I made a lot of ANE references in this, and if you're unfamiliar I will link you to different things to help you understand better what I'm talking about.
> 
> [Naberius](http://aonoexorcist.wikia.com/wiki/Naberius)  
> [Kurikara](http://aonoexorcist.wikia.com/wiki/Kurikara)  
> [True Cross Order](http://aonoexorcist.wikia.com/wiki/True_Cross_Order)  
> Knight/Doctor - Different Exorcist [Meisters](http://aonoexorcist.wikia.com/wiki/Meister). You'll have a [class](http://aonoexorcist.wikia.com/wiki/Exorcists) and a meister. Yuuri is an exwire, training to be a knight, Viktor is an Arc Knight Aria/Dragoon cross meister.  
> Chants - These are used specifically by the Aria meister during exorcisms!  
> [Viktor's Uniform](http://i1331.photobucket.com/albums/w591/Lord_Sithous/40255_zpse771e29c.jpg)  
> [Yuuri's Uniform](http://vignette1.wikia.nocookie.net/vsbattles/images/b/bb/Rin_Okumura.png/revision/latest?cb=20161123015202) (Link is an image of Rin Okumura, the ANE protagonist, with which Yuuri is taking the role of).
> 
> To note: I mentioned he was 23 when Yakov first approached him, and then later in the story was 24. It's not a slip up, his birthday had since then passed!
> 
> I have a WHOLE thread of this AU ready over on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/megalohdon/status/882123445906972672) if you want to give it a read. It's long, but outlines my plans. Always warnings for spoilers if you've never seen the show or read the Manga!
> 
> Also, in canon Rin has some demon features. These include his tail, horns (the blue flames on his head pictured below), pointed canines, and pointed ears. Yuuri takes on ALL of these traits as well. The flames, from everything that I've researched, are not bothered by the rain/water. If I'm wrong, correct me, but I never remembered reading about it or seeing it in the show, and no research came up with anything either.
> 
> Final thoughts:  
> I haven't written smut in 5 years, like I said, and I got halfway through editing this for inconsistencies and errors before I became frustrated and stopped. I'm sure there are PLENTY of problems, and I doubt it's good, but I needed it out of my system. This is, as always, unbetad. Thank you!
> 
> I am working on CH 3 of OBHAEG if you're looking for that. Never fear! Sometimes you just have to get things out of your system before you can carry on with your work.
> 
> Follow me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/megalohdon/) and [Tumblr](https://megalohdon.tumblr.com/).


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